Okay… I'm going to warn you. This chapter gets a bit graphic.

Please tell me if it starts getting in the R rated category.

Thank you.

Chapter Five

"Kira," Mom called as she rushed over to me, arms wide open. I tried to move back but couldn't. She wrapped her arms around me and began to cry again. As her tears soaked into my sweatshirt, I couldn't help but smile. I had given her so much pain. Then I realized why I was smiling.

I grimaced in a state of self-loathe. I was a selfish bitch. I was happy to make my mother cry. I don't deserve her… even though I despise her. I don't deserve anything. I never did. Mom should hate me. I should die.

"Oh Kira," Mom said. "I love you. I love you so much." I pulled back and stared at her. She had a look of pain on her face. "Kira," she whined. I ignored her.

"How did you know to call my mom," I said to the girl, who was standing and watching us.

"I didn't," she answered me. "I called the police. And luckily, she called the police as well." I stared at Mom, who was sitting in a chair across from my bed.

"Why?"

Mom moved in her chair. "I.. I was worried about you."

I kept my eyes on her. "Why worry?"

"Oh, Kira," Mom said, her lips quivering. "I just love you so much!" She wrapped her arms around me. I couldn't pull back so I had to deal with it.

After this…wonderful hug… I asked the girl, "What's your name?" I am not so kind usually but this girl interested me.

"Oh, I'm Leala," she said smiling at me.

"Nice to meet you," I said.

"Same here," she said, then giggled.

"Kira! How could you do this to me," Mom asked as we entered our house.

"What?!"

"Okay. Let's see. You drank, partied…"

"Come on Ma. It wasn't a big deal," I looked at her. Besides, why would she care.

"Kira. I just want you to be happy. Why aren't you happy?" She was crying again.

At the sight of this, I blew up. "Why do you care so much? Why am I so important? Mom, just… just leave me alone."

I realized that I was crying. Mom stared at me in awe. "Oh Kira," she cried. But I didn't hear her. I ran to my bathroom, my eyes full of tears.

Gasping hard I began to cry again. I fell to the floor and felt the black tears, covered with mascara fall to the floor. I gripped the carpet hard, my nails digging into my skin. I stared at the little half moon shaped pools of blood form in my flesh. The pain was comforting yet it made me cry harder.

I buried my face in the carpet, trying to muster my sobs of pain. I let go and started screaming into the carpet, my roars mustered into mere whimpers. Then I dropped to the floor, silent and exhausted.

Why aren't you happy?

"I don't know. I don't know Mom," I answered no one, my breaths becoming normal again. There is something wrong with me. I'm sick. I know I am. I will die. "It is not normal to be in this much pain," I told my self out loud, not caring if anyone heard me. "It is not normal."

I fell face down and started coughing, choking in a pile of dark tears. Maybe… maybe I should stay her, in this pile of tears. I should drown in this much pain. All these tears were shed for myself. I was selfish. I should die. But that would ease the pain, nurse it until it vanished. I shouldn't die. I should be tortured forever. I will not remember what it is like to feel happy. I don't deserve it.

I stumbled down the steps, makeup less, my face washed until it burned. I staggered into the kitchen and rested my elbows on a placemat. Just then, my eyes darted to a note set on the counter. I lifted it up and read:

Kira,

I'm sorry honey. I just need to think. To think about you. About me. It has just been getting really hard lately. Don't worry about me. Here is enough money for dinner and lunch tomorrow. I will be home after school. Don't worry.

Love,

Mom

"Why did she leave," I said out loud. One thought passed through my head. She will soon leave for good. Just like Dad. She is getting tired of me.

I walked up the stairs emotionless and found myself standing in the bathroom, my razor over a bare patch of skin. I made a cut fast, ripping my skin open. It began to breathe. It has never bled like this before. I stared at it dumbly. Then tried again. It is bleeding worst this time and I stared at it in shock.

Oh god. Please. No. This can't be happening. I can't feel anything. There is no pain.

I stared at the small razor in my hand.

There is not enough pain.

Panicked, I ran downstairs, the blood rushing through my head. I ripped off my sweatshirt and only wearing a tank top, I pulled out a knife from a draw in the kitchen. I searched for a clean spot on my red arms and slashed rapidly. Pieces of skin were falling on the floor. So much blood was forming. So much. I screamed in anger. This isn't enough. I need more. The pain isn't enough.

I dropped the drenched knife on the floor and ran. Searching, searching, searching. I kept on turning around, trapped in a whirlwind of terror. I had to ignite the pain. I needed the fire to burn…

Fire… Burn…Pain…

I turned to face the coffee table and picked up the black matchbox sitting upon it. I pulled out a match and begin to feel the tip of the it. It was so soft. I felt a wave of relief hit my body. But there wasn't enough relief to satisfy me.

I stroke the match against the box and dropping the matchbox, brought the match to my face. I stared at the orangey flame in wonder. Think of how much it can destroy. Think of the torture it creates.

I looked at my wrist, face up and the match before me. I felt dizzy. I felt drunk again, drunk makes me happy. I took the match and let it touch my skin.

At first I didn't feel anything. The flames just sat there. Then they began to engulf my skin. I screamed, falling top the floor. I began to shake, yelling for life. The flames were eating me, There was no skin left on my wrist. I grabbed a pillow and slammed my wrist to the floor, smothering the flames.

I began to cry. It hurt so much. More then anything. It was horrible. I was being eaten alive. There was no one to help me. Slowly I pulled my wrist from under the pillow. Pieces of ashy skin are hanging off of it. I tried to pull one off but yelped in pain. I blew the smoke from it and brushed some ashes off. I screamed at what was underneath the ashes.

My flesh was pink and red. I could see the muscles popping out and there was a purple vein underneath some dried up skin. I held my arm and walked upstairs. Crying with each step I took. I grabbed a white bandage and wrapped it around my arm. The blood was already leaking through.

I fell down right there and fainted, after a million years of waiting I was peaceful.

So… what do you think? Next chapter is coming soon!